Dead Simple
by Tostikat
Summary: Brennan's POV What was Brennan doing while Booth's eggs got cold.


Disclaimer: Although I have 216 bones in my body, none of them give me any rights over Booth, Brennan or any other character in Bones...mores the pity. This story is inspired by the creative works of Kathy Reichs and the producers of Bones. I hope it does them justice. No infringement is meant, so please don't sue. 

A/N - Thanks to BookwormRose for the idea. I hope you like it. Also thanks to all those who r&r'd "Cold Eggs", you guys rock - this one is for you.

A/N 2 - Might make more sense if you read "Cold Eggs" first, but then again maybe not. It's up to you. Please R&R, I love the feedback.

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Dead Simple

By Tostikat

Not only have I been out dancing with three different men tonight, Booth informed me it's not because they wanted information on the case. It's because they were; what was the phrase he used, oh yes _hitting on me._

I'm not sure Booth was right on that one and it is strangely unnerving if I think on it to long. I'm not good with people, leastways not ones that still have a pulse. But I can get by so long as I'm talking about what I know best; forensic anthropology. Being this way never bothers me, but since meeting Agent Seeley Booth, I wonder if it's enough that my most meaningful relationships are with dead people.

In my room back at the hotel, I can't sleep. The lights are out so as not to attract any mosquitoes. The terrace doors are thrown open, without the light pollution of a city I have a fantastic view of the stars.

Why can't I sleep? I'm worried, I'm analysing everything I've said tonight, trying to remember if any of it could have been taken out of context.

I give up; I'm not good with double entendres. Most of the time I have trouble understanding regular conversations, I don't need the additional confusion of innuendo. Snuggling deeper into the chair, I can feel myself drifting…

"_Yes I'm sure, you're the hottest thing this town has seen in a long time, check out the competition" Booth pulls me closer as we dance then he dips me and I can see an upside down view of a blonde woman sitting at the bar. Suddenly I'm up upright again and Booth whispers something in my ear "Now that is someone who wants to eat your heart". My pulse rate is up; his warm breath on my face is not helping. _

What startled me awake I don't know, my heart is racing. It's not long before dawn; I must have dozed off on the terrace last night. Stepping inside and closing the doors, I head towards the bed and under the covers to warm up, as I start to fade toward sleep a picture flashes across my mind. It's of Booth holding me close as we dance and I remember my body's reaction to his breath on my face I know what woke me up and why my heart was racing; I was dreaming. Booth is an attractive man, I might not be good with people but I'm not blind.

I do little more than drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours, finally deciding I'm wasting my time. Getting up I head for the shower, perhaps it will help clear my head, that done I slip into a white tee, blue jeans and boots. It's still early but perhaps Booth will be awake, deciding to try his room on the way down rather than risk waking him with the phone.

The hotel is quiet as I head towards Booth's room, my boots making soft knocking sounds on the floorboards. I'm outside his door now, my right hand posed to knock, but something stops me. My pulse is rapid; at this point I'm beginning to wonder if I'm having some kind of myocardial infarction. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, my breathing is short and I'm starting to feel dizzy. Whirling away I retreat to the safety of my room, it's difficult to open the door because my vision is blurred, once inside the symptoms begin to fade. Sometime later through the haze, I hear a ringing sound; it's my phone. I can't muster enough energy to answer.

I know the symptoms of a panic attack, usually beginning abruptly and include rapid heartbeat, chest sensations, shortness of breath, dizziness, tingling, and anxiousness. I just experienced several of them. Treatments include several medications and psychotherapy. I don't need professional help, what I need to do is focus; focus on the job at hand rather than on what Booth does to me.

It hits me like a slap round the face, _what Booth does to me_. I don't know where that came from. Pushing the thought away, I move towards the sink and splash cold water on my face, I'll be out on the trail of Sherman this morning and I need to pull myself together.

Tramping through the woods in search of Sherman, affords me the luxury of silence, Booth is in front of me trying to find the trail, the sheriff behind. The silence and my sanctuary are broken when Booth speaks.

"You didn't come down to breakfast Bones", He sounds annoyed, but I can't tell why.

Suddenly all the emotions I'd locked away earlier are back full force, angry that I've lost control of them again my response is more caustic than I'd intended, "I wasn't hungry, sorry you had to pay for your own meal"

"I called your room but there was no answer". Completely ignoring my tone, his question reveals he might have been worried about me, but the tone _he _uses sounds blasé, how is it possible to be worried and blasé at the same time?

The question has only served to confound me further, I deflect it by asking one of my own, "Why the sudden interest in my morning habits, Booth?"

"Look, I just thought we were going to get something to eat. You know and so I waited. My eggs got cold that's all, cold eggs". Moving ahead he crouches down, spotting something on the ground. I'm left wondering at Booths sudden preoccupation with eggs, cold or otherwise.

People wonder why I'm so interested in the dead, it's simple really, they're easier to deal with than the living.


End file.
